


Even Dust Was Made to Settle

by Nugg



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Secret Santa, Self Esteem Issues, lotsa fluff tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 12:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17142140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nugg/pseuds/Nugg
Summary: Sure, high school him would’ve thought himself to be the most handsome man in the world (or, his mother who still said it constantly.) But as those dulled eyes stared back at him in the reflection, he wasn’t convinced.Although…  the guy who works at the flower shop down the street sure tried to change that.





	Even Dust Was Made to Settle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RainbowPlane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowPlane/gifts).



> Woot Woot!
> 
> Here’s your Fic Rainbow! 
> 
> I chose “I’m not worthy of his time,” because I can’t bare to write about death lmao

      Ryuji tried to love himself after everything had happened. He really had.

      Therapy of all kinds, those pills that made him want to stay in his bed _slightly_ less, the ‘soothing’ oils his mom bought from the weird gypsy girl in Shinjuku. If it helped, it certainly didn’t last very long. He always fell back into that deep dark pit of despair he constantly seemed to wind up in.

       Those fake smiles, the ones with his teeth all showing, eyes crinkling to hide the pain, they were for show. To not worry his mother too much, he’d use it on her especially. Waking up every morning with that grin crafted just for her, and trying not to show the fact that really, he wished he wouldn’t have gotten out of bed.

        He’d gotten a job with a particularly plain smile, one he practiced before the interview. Working under his former school friend, Haru. She was kind enough to let him be at the front desk of a gym her father had bought before he’d died.

      Haru was unbelievably sweet, so, even if he hadn’t rehearsed that simple grin, she probably would’ve hired him anyway. Immediately reminding him of all the times he helped her carry dirt up to the rooftop after school. When he’d met up with her,  the decision seemed to be made before he even got a chance to speak.

       The mirror in front of Ryuji displayed someone he wasn’t quite sure he really wanted to see. They looked dead. Someone broken. Someone who high school Ryuji would immediately recognize as tired and worn down, years before he’d even started to follow that path.

        Mirrors weren’t really his favorite thing about his day. The reminder, that if he stepped far enough away, he could spot that long, ugly scar on his leg. Still bumpy, still pink and fresh, even though it’d been years since surgery, it seemed so recent every time he’d look at it.

        Sure, high school him would’ve thought himself to be the most handsome man in the world (or, his mother who still said it constantly.) But as those dulled eyes stared back at him in the reflection, he wasn’t convinced.

       Although…  the guy who works at the flower shop down the street sure tried to change that.

        His name was Akira, as Ryuji had learned, the third day he was pulled from his walk home to talk to the florist. Shaggy hair, cool grey eyes that sent shivers down his spine when they fell upon him. Dainty fingers that toyed around, touching Ryuji, dancing across his skin… He was the exact opposite of what he was; _unbelievably_ _handsome_ _and_ _gorgeous_ _in_ _every. single_. _way_.

        And if it wasn’t completely obvious by the way he hung on Ryuji and lived off his flushed cheeks, he was a flirtatious bastard. Always saying the most infuriatingly lovely things about the boy, sending playful smiles, doe eyes to top it all off.

       Winking had sent the blood rushing to his face more often than not. Covering his mouth, and cursing at his flustered self for the bubbly laugh Akira had pulled from him.

      It’d been a while since he was first overwhelmed by Akira. It was his mother's birthday, and he didn’t want to but her something she’d never wear, or use. Flowers seemed like a good choice for his mom, he especially wanted the pink frilly ones she’d always seemed loved.

       Passing it every day on his commute to work, he finally decided to go into the small shop. Immediately claustrophobic upon stepping foot inside, he’d never seen so many colors. Purples, blues, yellows… the smell alone was so sweetly mixed, it overwhelmed him.

      It was surprisingly warm, and compared to the sunny sky outside, the lack of lighting inside gave it all a hazy glow. Dark, and all the more beautiful with such vibrant floral around him. Dizzying himself at all the different hues, and confusing himself even more by not knowing a single thing about women and their flower preferences.

     He picked up an orange one. It had large petals, and weird brown things sprouting from the middle. Something Ryuji had seen once in his life, somewhere, probably years ago, looked foreign in his hands.

      Pressing it up to his nose. He paused at the interestingly non-smelling smell.  

       And then he looked up. Finally spotting the guy who stood with a interested brow raised glare. Arms crossed, he practically screamed out sophistication in the arts of flowers… judging by the way he was staring at Ryuji.

    “I wouldn’t choose that one unless you’re going to give it to someone you don’t like.” He’d said, almost too nonchalantly, Ryuji, in turn, letting his face retreat from the flower, and wondering in panic if it was poisonous.

       Practically shoving it back in the buckets, he put his hands up in defense, “Wha- why!? What’s wrong with it?”

       The man stifled a laugh, “It means hate.”

        “Oh god- no! I don’t hate her-“ he struggled with words, becoming too choked up as he emphasized his meaning with frantic hand gestures, “I jus’ wanna do somethin’ nice!”

        “Ah-“

        Ryuji wanted to drown himself with the water in the flower buckets. Burying his face into his hands as he groaned in embarrassment, doing it to himself, as always.

        “Well,” the guy strolled past him, bumping shoulders to grab his attention. And greeting him with a warm smile when he turned around, “I’m sure your girlfri-“

         He didn’t even let him finish.

          Biting back his bashfulness failed miserably, looking to the ground when he’d blurted out: “It’s for my mom!”

      A small laugh came from the other, shifting his weight like it would make a difference in how he’d see Ryuji. The same expression of interest so evident, his bubbly grin made the blond insanely weak.

       “Now that,” he paused, considering the information, and weighing it in his head as he glanced to the ceiling, “Is adorable.”

      The blush that spread across his face envied the beautiful pinks of the petals around. Cringing at himself for being awkward, and cursing at himself for making his stupidity look desirable.

      Assholes like this guy made him instantly self conscious. Like every move he made, every sound that came from his big mouth, was somehow wrong, and dumb. He wasn’t worth anyone’s time, specifically, incredibly hot florists who could embarrass him in just about two seconds.

     “You know- it’s admirable to get flowers for your mother-“

       Ryuji shot his glare up, stopping the guy in his tracks.

        Avoiding the now stale eye contact, he was adverted to the ground below. Stained, dirt ridden, and full of leaves, it was much more interesting than the weird encounter playing out before him.

        He sighed, “Wh- Can’t you just help me find somethin’ for her? It’s her birthday, man. I wanna make her feel nice n’ shit.”

       Pressing a fist to his chin when Ryuji strained to look up, he hummed, “Ah, yes, I think we have just the right thing for ‘nice n’ shit.’”

      Twisting around, Ryuji let out the breath he hadn’t noticed he held in. Wondering just how he’d gotten himself into this situation… he was in a flower shop. But he swore to god it was the most stressful situation he’d had in recent years.

     Carefully, he pulled out another, petals a soft pink in color. Offering it to Ryuji, and watching in amusement as he looked it over. Brows furrowed at all the confusing flower language he really never knew existed.

    “It looks like that stuff you put under them dresses to make ‘em all poofy.” He commented, letting his arm fall from his face to let the florist see his obvious frustrations, earning a heap of laughter from the other.

     Taking it back, he smiled wide, “It’s a carnation. They mean love, and are extremely popular to give to mothers.”

       Grabbing a white, he offered it up again, “White, means _pure_ love.”

       He bit down on his lip. Surveying both flowers with a fist up to his mouth in concentration, narrowing his vision to just the two.

        “Can I get both?”

        More laughter followed, “Of course you can get both. I’ll fix you a bouquet, make it all pretty for your mom, how does that sound?”

         Now it was Ryuji's turn to grin, becoming giddy, and fighting the urge to show it off too much, “Awh hell yeah man! Thank you!”

        Waving him off, he began to weave through the rows of flowers. Plucking something, and quickly moving to the back. Leaving Ryuji to awkwardly make his way up to the counter in silence.

         And, when he’d taken the pretty looking bouquet, he left. Simply sauntering away, so ready to give his mother something nice, and thoughtful.

        Surely, he didn’t see himself ever coming back to the flower shop.

         Then again, he sure didn’t think he’d be snagged by a hand to his bag. Halting his trek home as he spun around to assault whatever stopped him.

      “Wha-“

         He ended up not doing that.

       “What’s… err… what are you doing?”

        The gleam that met him rivaled the sun, “I just wanted to say hello.”

         The florist form the day before stood, insistent hand gripping the shoulder to his backpack. Smelling like a department store perfume aisle, and crinkling his eyes at Ryuji.

           “Um,” he nervously laughed, “Hi.”

           Waving back, and letting go, he shot a look full of warmth to Ryuji, “How did your mother like her flowers?”

           Immediately, Ryuji molded into the conversation, “Oh! Dude!” He jumped back excitedly, not being cautious of any passerby’s, and catching the stern glare of an old woman.

           “Heh- heh. Uh, she really freakin’ loved it, man. Like, _crying_ loved it,” thinking back, he smiled at her cooing, “You’ve got some magic hands.”

          “Hmm, magic fingers?,”

          The color drained from Ryujis face.

        “Do I?” He said, wiggling his fingers to match the sudden sly look on his face.

         Sputtering, he put his hands up in defense, desperate to find any way to hide his growing blush, “Eh!? You- that’s not what I meant!”

         He nodded, “I do, I’m just teasing.”

        Something bubbled inside Ryuji. And, he wasn’t quite sure if it was the shitty protein bars his coworker made, so _graciously_ gave, and watched him eat that day. Or the fact that some guy he’d just met was flirting with him, he didn’t know what was going on in his stomach.

          This practical stranger had remembered him well enough to pull him aside for some chatting. Some _real_ _deal_ talking, and not the ‘I’m speaking to you out of pity,’ conversations that he usually held. Everything in that moment settled in, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was jumping the gun with his immediate swooning over this guy.

        And god be it, _he_ _had_ _butterflies_ _in_ _his_ _stomach_. All the pretty kinds that you’d see in a nice museum, fluttering inside, and making his face hot, just as the florist lightly brushed his hand against Ryujis.

        When he learned his name the next day on his way home from work, he stayed longer… And as the days went by, the unplanned visits had grown _even_ longer each time.

           _Akira_ as he’d learned over the next few visits, wasn’t a city boy. He had a rough past, and a bumpy future ahead. He had a cat, and he had a awful habit of toying with Ryuji.

       The winks, the playful whispers into his ears, it all added up into one mess of emotions in Ryuji. Trying to the best of his abilities, to not blurt out something idiotic when Akira leaned on him.

        Every so often, Ryuji would receive a flower as well. Gifted to him as soon as he walked through those front doors, and granting the explanations to what they mean just the same.

        His favorites were sunflowers, which he learned meant ‘adoration,’ or ‘happy’ because the mimicked the sun. Which, to Ryuji's dismay, Akira used against him, telling him he was his own sunflower.

         The flirting and, unfortunately- his self worth issues- got far worse as the time grew. Weeks to months, months to _almost_ -years. Summer was at it again, and so was the new bubbliness of Akira, so bright and full of cheesy compliments, and feathery light touches.

       Shouldn’t he feel the opposite way? Shouldn’t he feel confident, and better than ever? He had someone tell him on a daily basis he was cute…

      But what if he was lying?

        Ryuji couldn’t help but to feel awful when he’d go home at night. To lay in his bed, staring at the blank ceiling like it held all the meanings to life. Hoping desperately for the self esteem he wished he possessed to bite back at all the flirting.

      If he didn’t feel bad about himself already, the constant whispers of sweet nothings had always seemed to fracture in translation. Insults to Ryuji's war torn skin, instead of the lovely compliments they were meant to be. Because, he _had_ _to_ be joking. _Nobody_ _could_ _ever_ _truly_ _like_ a _genuinely_ _horrid_ _person_ … _right_?

       Worthless didn’t even begin to describe how he had felt. Not worthy in any way of the beauty of Akira’s voice, and certainly not deserving of his wonderful presence.

       But, he could guess that all kinda changed when he gave out his phone number. The half assed excuse of, “so I can text you about flowers,” becoming evident as a lie when the first text he sent was a winking emoji, and a picture of him with a double chin.

         Really, he never got a text about flowers from the dude. It was all cryptic to the naked eye, but just Akira-ish enough for Ryuji to understand his babbling completely.

     As the one year anniversary of knowing each other grew closer, their bond began to expand. Ryuji hanging around, Akira bickering with him on the dumbest things… it was nice.

      His pills certainly weren’t working, but the daily smiles worked pretty well as a backup plan.

      Nestled in his comforter, and sending the most obscure emojis to Akira, he set his phone down and let his mind wander.

       And then. His phone buzzed.

 

 _Flower_ _Boy_ \- 9:13 p.m

Heh, wanna go out?

 

      Ryuji swallowed the cotton ball feeling he’d had in his throat. Because, what the hell!? Why did he just randomly text that? What was wrong with him? Was he serious? Was Ryuji over reading?

 

 _Ryuji_ \- 9:14 p.m

What do you mean?

 

…

 

       If three dots could scare him more than any other horror movie he’d ever seen, he was certain nothing would ever top it. Seconds going by agonizingly slow.

 

 _Flower_ _Boy_ \- 9:14 p.m

I didn’t get a chance earlier.

 

 _Flower_ _Boy_ \- 9:14 p.m

But, I really like you Ryuji

 

 _Flower_ _Boy_ \- _9_ : _15_ _p_. _m_

And it’s shitty to ask over text, but do you wanna go out with me? See a movie or something? Something other than being in a flower shop?

 

 _Flower_ _Boy_ \- _9_ : _15_ _p_. _m_

I could hold your hand. You could finally make me be the one to blush.

 

      Ryuji knew it wasn’t a good idea in the slightest.

       But he chucked his phone across his room, before he rolled off his bed and started to squeal. The inner schoolgirl in him was coming out full fledge as he squirmed around in glee. His poor downstairs neighbor probably thought he was dying… to which he’d kinda-sorta be correct about.

       Before he went any further and gave himself a concussion from banging his head on his floor, he perked up.

          Where it lay, his phone began to ring. The stupid instrumental ringtone from his favorite cartoons as a child, had stopped his squealing… and it took him a bit longer than it should’ve to realize the situation.

         Someone just asked him out.

          And he didn’t answer them.

         Toppling over his clothes bin on the way there, he screeched. Panicky moves on the floor as he looked for his phone. Crazily smacking to the ground to find it like it could possibly help him.

         “hEllo!” He squeaked, picking it up out of his trash bin before the last bit of song ended.

          “Oh good,” the voice on the other end sighed, “You haven’t blocked me.”

           Widening his eyes, Ryuji sat up, “Wha- I would never!! I just uh… threw my phone… in excitement.”

          “Even better,” Akira cooly said, and Ryuji rolled his eyes at the perfect picture in his head. The florist laying back into his bed, wide smile full of mischief, “What’s the diagnosis. Yes, or no?”

          He didn’t know why he paused.

           He didn’t know why he couldn’t get the words to come out of his mouth, when he was so good at talking anyone’s ears off normally. They were caught up right before the opening, yanking on his tongue, and sending all the wrong signals to his brain.

         Because, what if it was a prank? What if it was some sick joke that Ryuji fell for, so starved of any human contact, that he jumped right into something that would hurt him? Akira could be on cough medicine, he _had_ to be.

         Who would want to take Ryuji out anyway?

          To him, he was such a lowlife, even his mom deserved better. He was a _failure_. The reject of society, that somehow ended up okay enough to catch a job, and secure a career he enjoyed.

       And if that weren’t enough, here he was, being asked out by the hottest dude he’d ever seen. It was some sick joke- it had to be.

      “Are you… do you mean it?” He asked warily, folding in on himself, hiding his odd noises of anticipation that were slipping out.

        He heard a snort, “Why wouldn’t I? Come on, you don’t paint me as that much of an asshole, do you?”

         Shaking his head like Akira could see, Ryuji jumped into the next answer, “No! No! I’ve just never done this, Akira, it’s- I can’t believe someone would ask _me_ out!”

         “I thought you would’ve caught on by now, but, I really do like you Ryuji.”

          He choked, “Oh yeah, it wasn’t like you weren’t obvious.”

         “But ah… yeah. Yeah. I’ll go out with you.” He held his breath, and prepared to continue until his lungs gave out.

        Now, as for spontaneous. Ryuji knew the gist of what Akira could _truly_ do.

        First dates were kind… extremely important? And the fact that the guy took him, the most uncoordinated person in the world, _ice_ _skating_ , was a punch in the gut.

         Surely, when he stepped foot into the surprisingly empty rink, he expected to get a bit farther than he actually did.

      Legs giving out, groan of frustration and fear mixing to sound like a dying cow. He fell right when he got in, crashing to the floor with one giant sound. Akira standing there with that _taunting_ smile.

        “You’re so lousy!” He griped, rolling onto his stomach as he saw his date whizz past him. Elegantly turning to face him with perked up brows.

         Jutting his lip out in false hurt, Akira clutched his chest, slowly making his way back to Ryuji, who lay grumpily on the ice, “Awh- look at the lil baby- do you need the kiddie skate trainers?”

        Groaning again, he stuck his hand out, “What I _need_ is some help up. And some guidance by the apparent professional ice skater here.”

         Laughing while he did it, Akira did actually assist him in getting up. Sliding over, and hoisting him up into his arms, looking down at the ice as Ryuji stood.

         He tried to pull away, to show that he wasn’t some child who couldn’t fend for themselves. But, when he began to struggle, he fell forward into Akira, gripping his jacket for dear life as they both moved backwards.

           “Hey, hey,” Akira placed a comforting hand to the back of Ryuji's head, face buried in the fabric to hide the heat that rose up to it. So burning hot, his flush might’ve melted the ice beneath them.

         “I won’t let go of you until you’re comfortable standing, okay?” He gently said, watching as the other lifted his gaze back up. Nodding with the disappointment of not being able to do it on his own so evident in his face.

        And, as Ryuji had seen so many times on his mom’s shitty holiday romance movies, Akira held his hand. Not caring how roughly he was squeezing back as he steadied himself on the ice. Finally able to make his legs work properly, the ache in his thigh was ignored because… he was holding hands with someone!?

       Save for the fact that he looked like a baby horse standing up for the first time, he felt glorious. Tugged along so gently, gliding around, mimicking the foot movements of the other… it was an extraordinary feeling.

         So romantic… so nice, and serene, and everything in between the two. The sounds of blades on ice louder than the crappy Christmas songs that played overhead. Quiet as they echoed through the rafters, singing about snow, and lights. When the real joy was right below.

        His leg hurt, but he wouldn’t let it ruin his perfectly good date. Taking a deep breath as he wiggled free from Akira’s grip, propelling himself forward to be a show off.

        He let his feet guide him, knowing there were eyes of hope planted on him as he curved around. Simple, and short, had meant all the world to Ryuji. Because, _heck_ _yeah_ , he can actually skate now, even if he’s a bit wobbly, and unsure, he’s moving across the ice with grace.

         Until his leg buckled beneath him.

          Until he cried out in pain, and immediately hid his face from view. Hearing the distant sound of concern, and aggressive metal to the ice. He was beyond embarrassed.

         Nobody should see him like this… why did he have to ruin something so great? What was wrong with him? Akira shouldn’t have to come to his aid, Akira shouldn’t have to be worried over Ryuji's dumb leg acting up.

         Akira shouldn’t waste his time on Ryuji.

         Akira shouldn’t fall to his knees, and pry at his arms. Desperate to see what’s wrong, Akira shouldn’t grab his leg and survey the damage that had been done years ago.

      “Ryuji,” he tried, feeling him tense up at the touch to his knee, “Ryuji what happened?”

          _Ryuji_ _is_ _a_ _failure_ _of_ _a_ _human_ _being_ _is_ _what_ _happened_ -

        Crushing his cheek into the ground, he still shielding the heavy look of agony from Akira, “S’ good. I’m good.”

         He finally looked up from his palms, “I just- um. I slipped.”

        Akira moved his leg into his lap, and quickly released his touch on it as Ryuji hissed in pain. Furrowing his brow as he caught the apologetic expression directed towards him.

        “Uhm.”

        He was trying. He really, really was. 

        “Don’t be mad-“

        Giving him the stink eye, Akira tapped his fingers on the ice, ready to scold him like an expectant parent, “Ryuji.”

         “My uh- my injury started to flare up as room as we stepped in the rink-“

           “ _Ryuji?!_ ”

           Akira was panicked. Akira was scared for him, eyes wide, heavily breathing... Akira cared for him...

           He threw his head back and groaned, “I know, I know! I just didn’t want to ruin our date, y’know?… I was havin’ so much fun, man.”

        He got scolded for that.

       He also got scolded for not telling his mom he was seeing someone when that someone insisted he meet her one night. Following him like a lost dog all the way home, talking about how excited he was to finally meet her.

        Turns out, being a florist, and bringing flowers to your boyfriends mother, was the key to success. So careful in what he chose as a first impression gift.

         When he let himself in, Ryuji stood and watched as his mom immediately started to smother him. Touching his hair, fawning over the flowers, and getting up close and personal as she repeatedly reminded them how pretty he was. Exclaiming how much she wanted her son to have love, and how good he must be for her son: “Jiji.”

           Akira arched his brow, smug as his mom hurriedly searched for a vase, “Jiji, eh?”

           Pointing, Ryuji shook his head firmly, “You shut the hell up you bastard.”

            “Whatever you say,” he shrugged, following Mrs. Sakamoto with the bouquet, and shooting a wink to Ryuji, “Jiji.”

         Of course, Ryuji didn’t expect to fall deeper for Akira that night. Watching him cook with his own mother, joking with her, playfully insulting her son, all while telling her how wonderful he really was.

         When he began to roll dough out for noodles, tying his hair back with a tie Ryuji's mom had given him, he stood and watched. Distant, and almost hidden, his mother weaves around the kitchen, making small talk with the guy for the most part. Compliments being handed out like candy, and giggles filling the room.

          “Thank you, Akira.” Ryuji had heard too busy playing on his phone to see the context.

          “Oh it’s really no big deal- I cook all the time-“

          She shook her head, setting down a dish towel she was using as a distraction, and taking Akira’s hands in her own. Not a care in the world for all the flour transferred over, “Thank you for caring for my son.”

         Peeking over his phone, the boy in question listened to the conversation more, “Of course, he’s really one of the best things that’s happened to me, ma’am.”

          “I’ve seen the way he lights up around you… and I’ve missed that in him. With everything that’s happened, someone like you has brought the Ryuji I thought was gone forever, back.” She gave him a curt smile, letting her eyes fall to the floor.

            “His- his father-“ she started, and Ryuji's mouth went dry, blush fading into the coldness of her words, “He's always so upset over looking like him. And, I’ve always been so worried he’d follow down the path I’d mistakenly took.”

         Taking a deep breath, Ryuji tuned the conversation out in that moment. Letting their topic settle within him as he pushed himself out of the stuffy atmosphere.

         She wasn’t wrong.

          _Of_ _course_ _she_ _wasn’t_.

        He hated his appearance more than anything. The way his harsh features resembled his father, how his nose, his build, his chin- _it_ _all_ _looked_ _like_ _him_.

         Ugly, and unlovable. He was a far cry from beautiful. No matter how many times Akira tried to convince him otherwise. Someone as handsome as his boyfriend, was enviable, _discouraging_.

          Because, if someone as disgusting as Ryuji hit it big with a gorgeous guy, something must’ve been wrong.

          Maybe that’s why he started to drift away.

        Locking himself indoors after an unpleasant day full of self hatred. The following weeks grew exhausting. The kisses and the hugs, just minor  obstacles for his bad thoughts to climb over.

          Maybe that’s why he isolated himself. And called off work for a few days.

          Phone turned off, windows drawn. Laying in bed and wondering why he was like this in the first place did nothing to help. He was _miserable_. Disgusted at himself for acting like he was, and horrified at the small amount of time it took for him to fall into a depressive state.

        Shower, so hot it'll melt his skin. Mother, worried beyond belief, asking about Akira as Ryuji stare at himself in the mirror.

         He thought it was day three by the time someone knocked on his front door. The last pair of fresh clothes already on his spent body, he shuffled to the door in agony.

     He opened it quickly, despite all the warning alarms suddenly blaring in his head. Banging all the water out of his ears, and screaming at him to get a grip.

      Despite having a peephole, and knowing that answering the door without looking had its consequences, he did it anyway.

       And then. He was tackled.

        Fighting back the urge to slither away, or to push him off. Ryuji let Akira burst through the door, and let those comforting arms wrap around his neck. Feeling the hands slide up his body to his face as he tried his best to not seem like an empty mess.

      “I-“

       Before he could even finish, he brought Ryuji into an embrace. One filled with warmth, and reassurance that someone he really cared for, had initiated the most intimate hug he’d ever received.

        Muffled, Akira continued, “I was so worried.”

        Freezing in his place, Ryuji buried his face into his boyfriend's shoulder, “I’m so sorry. I- I- just _couldn’t_ deal with shit right. And I didn’t what you to see all this _shit_ -“

        “Shit?”

          Nodding as he pulled back, Ryuji sniffled, “I’m a mess- an’ I don’t want you to pity me. I don’t wanna seem like a sissy-“

          “Ryuji, what the fuck.”

           He went stiff, knowing he screwed up beyond belief, and wondering why the hell Akira was still standing there. Through all his idiotic moves, he held hands with the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and they hadn’t run away.

      “I… don’t have good self esteem, Akira. An’, I dunno if it’s my past, or whatever’s goin’ on in my messed up head, but it _sucks_. It- it freakin’ sucks to feel like this.” He worried his bottom lip, fighting the urge to let his emotions get the best of him, and to cry.

       “Every time I look in the mirror, I feel disgusted. Every time you hold my hands, or tell me I’m beautiful, the little bastard inside my head keeps tellin’ me I ain’t good enough for someone as great as you. I don’t _deserve_ you.”

       Akira shook his head, “That’s not true, Ryuji.”

       He nodded, “I’d like to believe that too, Aki, but it’s hard. It’s hard, and my head won’t allow good thoughts like that.”

        Reaching up again, he lay a soft palm on his cheek, the comfort practically radiating from his touch into Ryuji. If he weren’t on hardwood, he could’ve sworn he’d gave in to his touch, and crash to the floor in weakness.

      Gentle, and all the more delicate, he pressed a small kiss to his lips. Short, sweet, and mind blowing, it caused Ryuji to become (somehow?!?) even more madly in love with him. Amazed in his hazy state of adoration, that just a peck to his lips had halted a panic attack waiting to happen.

      Suddenly, as if he were some sort of magician, upon pulling away, he reached behind him. Returning with a bright red rose. Something Akira had grabbed from his shop before he’d come to confront Ryuji.

       Pressing it into his hands, Akira lingered with his touch, “This is for you.”

  “I love you, Ryuji.” He bowed his head, a graceful smile playing on his lips.

       For a moment. Ryuji was silent.

     His mouth ajar, staring down at the flower in his hands, his whole world was going in slow motion. Blood rushing to his face as he glanced back up, and caught the waiting gaze through all that hair. Those grey eyes looking through expectedly, he suddenly realized he was awaiting some kind of reaction.

      “Wh-“

       He dropped his hands to his side, “For real!?”

       Finally looking back up, Akira laughed, throwing his head back in relief, “Oh my god- _yes_ \- Ryuji. For real.”

          “Roses mean love n’ shit!! You gave me a rose you sly bastard- you know I ain’t good with this shit!” He was bouncing up and down, gripping the stem with all his might, so excited, and all the more head over heels for the guy standing right in front of him.

          With one small step, he took his face between his hands for the billionth time (not that he was complaining or anything.) Staring deeply as Ryuji tried to wiggle out of his hold, embarrassed beyond belief, and hoping way down inside that he couldn’t see the blush creeping across his face.

      “I love you, a lot.” He said, watching patiently as the flickering eyes made their way back. Meeting again, with all the hope in the world within them.

        Ryuji shook his head, “I ain’t worth nothin’, Akira… you know that. I’m a piece of shit.”

         “I must really like shit then, huh?”

          He scoffed at that, rolling his eyes in some lame attempt to push away the laughter bubbling in his stomach, “Akira, I’m not good enough for y-“

         Akira immediately stopped him, “Do you remember all those times I’d stopped you? All those times you’d mosey around my shop, cracking jokes, messing around?”

        With no time to answer, he let the florist speak, “Your smiles. How genuinely nice you were- it all counted for something, Ryu. You made my day a million times better by just being _you_.”

        “I know you’ve had a rough past, and I absolutely hate that you feel as worthless as you do. But, I see something so magnificent in you, something I adore with every fiber of my being.”

      A thumb began to smooth over the skin on his cheek, gently, “And I know it’s created some sort of self deprecating, stupid, and annoying barrier between you and your greatness. But, if just one smile can make my heart melt, doesn’t that make all the difference?”

       Ryuji faltered.

       Bringing his hand up, and laying it over the one squishing his cheeks, he closed his eyes, “I love you too… but- I’m just-“

        “I will scream to the world if I have to-“

        “No _no_ _no_ \- you don’t-“

        “I’ll do it,”

         “Akira _no_.”

       “Don’t doubt me.”

       “I’m not doubting you, Akira. You’re insane enough to do it-“

         He leaned back, almost challenging Ryuji with his defiance. The narrowed look in his eyes hadn’t prepared Ryuji for when he darted past him, opening the sliding door to his patio frantically.

     “Akira! Don’t you dare!” He’d shouted after him, spinning on his heels to try and stop himself from being evicted because of his hard headed boyfriend and his loud mouth.

       Just as he got to the doorway, Akira cupped his hands over his mouth.

        Readying himself, he leaned over the railing, “I love Ryuji Sakamoto!” _And_ _it_ _echoed_.

         Scrambling forward, he desperately tried to stop him from going at it again, “I swear to god!” His attempt to reach for his hands failed when the quickness within Akira presented itself. Weaving around him fast.

         “I love Ryuji Sakamoto with all my heart! He’s the best! He’s the greates-“ He screeched into the open air, stopped only when Ryuji took his turn in tackling him.

      And there they lay.

      Akira’s hair all rustled around him, laying flat against the concrete, and exposing his formerly framed face. The cool wind and dark tone of a fading day with no sun set the scene. A blue so lovely, it makes the warm glow from the street lamps look great across pale skin.

      Both out of breath. One with the light smile upon his lips, the other with tension in his brow. Hearing cars splash in puddles at a distance, it was just them. Alone, on top of each other, on a patio, in one big-ass world.

      But, no matter the population. It was only the two in that moment.

      It’s only then, when Ryuji lets himself feel the rise and fall of his boyfriends chest, that he starts to cry.

       He lay on top of him, scrunching up his face in sorrow as he let the tears fall. Some landing on Akira’s shirt before he brought his face into his neck. Muffling the broken sobs that came from deep within his damaged soul.

        The beauty of it all. The wonderful feeling of lightness that the florist had given him, all swelled up into an overwhelming mess at that point. The way the color of the sky danced across his skin- the way he smiled- the way Akira always provoked himself more than he would ever provoke Ryuji- _the_ _way_ _the_ _world_ _had_ _looked_ _on_ _him_.

       “Ryuji,” he whispered, tone so calming, and not at all with pity and concern. Patience evident with every stroke to his hair, “You’re not my favorite person in the whole world.”

        Shooting his head up, he sniffled before he scoffed, “What?”

        “You _are_ my whole world. So… you know. That’s not possible.”

          “Oh my god,” Ryuji groaned, “You’re so cheesy.”

         Sending back a shit eating grin, Akira shrugged, hooking his arm under Ryujis, and pulling him closer, “But you love it.”

         Practically nuzzling into his face, Ryuji hummed, “Yeah, you’re right.”

         After that, the love that Ryuji had for himself, never changed.

          He still hated who he was, still suffering from every horrible thing that had happened to him. Sometimes, wallowing in it all, and freeing bits and prices of everything he had built up. One emotional roller coaster at a time.

          However, he had someone there to push away those thoughts.

          Sweetly smelling hands to card through his hair when he woke up from a nightmare, Akira would always be there. Returning the favor when Akira’s own demons would present themselves.

          All the hugs, all the grins, the kisses, the lovely words, and flirtatious whispers only meant for the two of them, began to tip the scales in his favor.

          And as he look at himself in the mirror, the cracks still stood.

           As he looked in the mirror, though, the glue holding him together tightly stood there too. Brushing his hair, bothering Ryuji, pestering him while he was showering by standing outside the curtain and harassing him.

          Mirrors weren’t all that scary anymore when you had some asshole blowing into your ear for fun there with you. Constantly taking photos Ryuji would’ve never taken himself, and slowly mending the wounds that he could’ve never imagined being healed.

            Ryuji was in love. And Ryuji felt good about who he was as a person.

            And no past lack of self worth could ever change that.


End file.
